


John's Jumper

by Arnethiel, TimeLordFrom221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Bottom!Lock, Comforting, First Time, Fluff and Smut, John Watson - Freeform, John's jumper, Johnlock Fluff, Light BDSM, M/M, Omegle Roleplay, Oneshot, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Sherlock Texting, Some Plot, Top John Watson, Virgin Sherlock, top!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:02:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4133391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arnethiel/pseuds/Arnethiel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeLordFrom221B/pseuds/TimeLordFrom221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It keeps me warm" Sherlock mumbled. They were hideous, he wasn't lying when he told that to John, but he still liked them. Because they were a part of the soft-hard contrast that made up John Watson, that made up what he loved about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John's Jumper

Sherlock? JW

Yes? SH

Have you seen my jumper anywhere? JW

What jumper? SH

The cream one. JW

No. Do keep track of your own belongings, John. SH

I do. That's what is my wardrobe is for. I don't suppose it was Mrs Hudson who's taken it. JW

Why would she take it? SH

You're simply being delusional. SH

I was being sarcastic, Sherlock. But it must have been you who took it. JW

Why would I take it..? SH

For another one of your experiments with my jumpers, Sherlock, I don't know, maybe. JW

I have not stolen your jumper. SH

[Delayed] I simply borrowed it. SH

I was not saying it was stolen- Sherlock, what have you done to it? JW

I was cold. Your jumper is perfectly fine. SH

Oh. That's good. JW

Good? SH

I mean: it's good that nothing has happened to it. JW

Hold on. JW

What? SH

"Sherlock, are you... wearing my jumper?" John asked as he entered Sherlock's room, looking at his flatmate in disbelief.

Body and mind flooding with shame, Sherlock looked for somewhere to hide. The jumper looked ridiculous on him, too short in the sleeves and body, but too baggy over his slim chest. There was nowhere to go, he realised, and stared past John out the window instead. "Yes" he said shortly.

John walked over to Sherlock who was trying to get out of John's sight. He grabbed him by his shoulder and turned him around. It was obviously not the size for Sherlock, but dear Lord, John couldn't get his eyes off of him.

Sherlock instinctively took a step back at the touch, the combination of physical contact and John never having been one that his mind appreciated in too big doses. He always ended up with strange dreams after it happened, and he could do without that as of right now. "What?" he asked, sounding far more breathless than he would have wished.

John's mouth was slightly opened and he licked his lips nervously. A bit too long after Sherlock's question he returned to reality and took a step back as well, trying to hide his blush, but to no avail. "Oh, God, please don't say I said that out loud", he thought. "Did you say something, Sherlock?"

"N-no?" Sherlock stammered, the way John had been looking at him seared into his mind. "Said what out loud?" he prompted, clearing his throat in a futile attempt at composing himself.

"Uh, nothing, it's nothing, Sherlock" John said quickly, too desperately, he realised. They both stood in silence, consuming each other's appearances. Seconds ticked by and John knew that it something didn't stop this, he wouldn't be able to keep himself from kissing Sherlock, which would most likely be the doom to him. "I never knew you liked my jumpers" John chuckled, not looking Sherlock in the eyes, afraid of losing it completely.

"It keeps me warm" Sherlock mumbled. They were hideous, he wasn't lying when he told that to John, but he still liked them. Because they were a part of the soft-hard contrast that made up John Watson, that made up what he loved about him. He pulled insecurely at the hem of the too-short jumper, before glancing up, meeting John's gaze.

"Oh, okay," John whispered, almost not making any sound at all. He knew Sherlock heard him though. His Sherlock. He could drown in these galaxy eyes of his, hell, galaxies weren't enough to describe how dark, deep, beautiful and full of life and love they were. No matter what he said, John knew Sherlock wasn't a machine. No, he was very capable of loving. If only this love was reserved for him.

"You don't mind" Sherlock said, and now his voice held just enough confidence for the words to come out as a statement rather than a question. He eyed John's face, frowning slightly at the... What was that, adoration? He couldn't tell for sure, his vision tainted by emotion, his own heart threatening to break free from within his ribcage.

"What? Oh, no, it's completely fine." John said. "Fine, what am I saying, Sherlock bloody Holmes is wearing my jumper. How is it that I'm still standing?", he wondered. "I suppose you'll have to take-" -he stopped for half a second "…it off soon though." he mumbled, blushing furiously. "John, stop this, you're probably looking like an utter idiot now," he kicked himself mentally.

Sherlock wasn't entirely sure if the innuendo was intended, but he hesitantly pulled the jumper up slightly to reveal a naked stomach. "I'm not wearing anything underneath..." he mumbled. "So I probably shouldn't... Here" He didn't know why he felt so coy suddenly. It wasn't like John hadn't seen him topless before. Hell, he's seen him naked on more than one occasion, when the detective was too lazy to put anything on in the morning, usually ending up wearing a much prompted-for, from John's side, sheet.

As Sherlock lifted up the jumper, John's gaze immediately drifted to it and he almost lost his mind. He knew Sherlock wasn't playing with him, but if it wasn't, well, Sherlock, he would have sworn it was just too cruel to torture him like that. He's seen him naked before, but it was never that... sensual. He lifted his eyes again. "Oh, right, I'll just leave for a second, so... hand me the jumper when you're finished." John turned around at quickly stormed out of the room, closing the door behind him to give him privacy. He held his head in his arms. He had to confess. There was no point in fighting it now.

"Wait, John!" Sherlock called, just as the door closed behind the doctor, his heart beating fast in his chest. "John?" He chewed his lip as he waited for a reaction.

John slowly opened the door again, not daring to look inside.

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"You could... You could help me out of it."

That was it. He'd played his cards now, and all he could do was wait and see what John would do next. Hopefully it would involve touching him in some way.

"Oh. Oh!" John exclaimed and slowly entered the room. This was his chance. Whether it was coincidence, God or any other superior power, he thanked him for this. "So, I see you're a bit stuck." He moved slowly to Sherlock. His hand hovered above Sherlock's waist, but he didn't touch. Not yet.

Sherlock nodded ever so slowly, hands moving away to allow Jon's hands to touch the thin sliver of skin that was exposed even when he relaxed. "I think I need some help..." he mumbled, leaning closer into John's personal space.

"Yeah. I still don't know how you managed to get into this." His voice lowered as his hand laid on Sherlock's skin. He felt as if there was a bolt of electricity at the touch and he wanted to feel it again. His other hand rested on the other side. He slid his hands upwards and tugged at the edge of the jumper slightly. Sherlock felt his breath hitch slightly at the light touch, and he swallowed thickly to hide it, which only made him look even more nervous. "N-neither do I..." he mumbled, raising his arms to allow John to slide the jumper off his torso. John lifted the main part carefully, tenderly, his hands touching Sherlock's skin as much as possible, but not being too obvious and still leaving Sherlock waiting, wanting, needing more. He stopped when he reached the sleeves. He tried to pull harder, but nothing happened. He thought for a second. "I think we'll have to cut them off." he whispered, his voice practically soaking with lust.

"Or..." Sherlock murmured, moving swiftly to pull the jumper off as if he'd done it a hundred times before. Which he might have. He just didn't need to tell John that part. "We skip that" he whispered, more confident now as he dropped the jumper to the floor, closing the gap between them. His eyes were heavy with want, and he met the blonde’s gaze for a brief moment before letting his eyes drop to his mouth.

John licked his lips and looked at Sherlock's face. His ebony curls were sticking out in different directions, some of them were stuck to his forehead with sweat. His cheeks were red and his cheekbones seemed to be sharper than ever. His mouth was slightly opened and the tip of his tongue could be seen. John's gaze dropped to Sherlock's exposed chest. He looked at his light, almost white hair and he let out his breath too see it move. Sherlock shivered slightly at the sensation. John raised his hands to his torso and started rubbing circles with his thumbs there. He wasn't even shocked anymore. This was happening and Sherlock was his and his alone.

John looked into Sherlock's eyes who had come dangerously close to John’s, feeling his flatmate’s hot breath against his own lips. John was pretty sure that Sherlock could hear his heart racing in his chest while his body longed after the touch of those lips.

John's breathing pace quickened. He stared into the eyes of his flatmate. He could do this. He had wondered how these lips would feel against his own for damn too long. Suddenly, Sherlock raised his left arm to John's cheek as he started caressing it with his thumb, as if he was petting him. John closed his eyes and leaned into his hand eagerly, seeking other's warmth. He felt being pulled closer agonisingly slowly and he shivered in anticipation. He put his hand on the back of Sherlock's neck and pulled him in, stopping just about two inches from their lips finally meeting.

Sherlock couldn't hold it back any longer. His lips crushed onto John's while the hand that wasn't cupping John's cheek wandered to John's back.

John could feel all of his senses sharpen. He practically melted into the kiss, his left hand rested on Sherlock's chest and he responded with even more passion. All these subtle glances, stares, dancing around each other all the time, oh, Sherlock was going to pay. John's hand wandered from Sherlock's neck to his hair and he buried his hand there, pulling Sherlock closer by tugging at the curls. Sherlock made a hiss at the sensation, but it wasn't one of pain, but of lust and longing. "John, my hair..." he gasped, trying to close every gap between their bodies "...it's quite... sensitive..." he managed to get out before arching his neck back a little and moaning.

John hasn't heard anything so beautiful in his entire life. He forcefully pinned Sherlock to the wall and he pulled away, teasing him. "You don't mind," he smirked.

"Bedroom. Now," Sherlock smirked back.

John pulled Sherlock towards the stairs, kissing him passionately all the way, stopping at the wall, then the table, then yet another wall which they slammed into, but they couldn't care less. Sherlock reached with his hand to the handle of his door but was stopped at the strong grasp of John's fingers. "Oh, no, you don't!" John gasped as he lead him to his own bedroom and closed the door behind them with a strong kick. Sherlock got slammed against the door again. He could feel John hard against his leg and slipped his hand's beneath his shirt, pushing it up to reveal John's upper body. John moaned as Sherlock touched his chest and he kissed him again, dragging him to the bed. He got on top of Sherlock, grasped his shoulders and dived down to his neck, biting the skin almost hard enough to draw blood. Sherlock groaned to this, ripping off John's shirt completely, and leaned his head back so that John had better access to his neck.

John was hard. He was enjoying this so much and he couldn't wait any longer. He was about to leave another bite mark on Sherlock's neck when he felt a sudden movement and he heard a weird sound when his shirt was taken off. He looked at it, laying on the bed at the moment, missing half of its buttons and having a ripped edge. He looked back at Sherlock and tried to fake anger. From the look on Sherlock's face, he succeeded. He leaned in and whispered into Sherlock's ear "That, Sherlock, was one of my new shirts. It costed a lot, you know" he breathed at Sherlock's skin, making him tremble. "And now it's useless... You're going to pay for doing this. I'll make you wait. I'll tease you, I'll whip you, I'll do things that will drive you crazy and you will enjoy every second of it. You won't be pleased, you'll scream, you'll shout my name loud enough for Mrs Hudson to hear, we wouldn't like that now, would we? You'll beg me to finally enter you. Let's see if you can earn that mercy."

Sherlock moaned, mouth slightly open. "Go for it. Punish me. Do whatever you want with me."

"Rule number one. You listen to what I tell you and you obey, understood?" John said, pulling Sherlock's head upwards, causing a bit of pain. "Rule number two. No talking, or you'll get punished. You can talk only if I let you." Sherlock nodded, getting harder every second. He couldn't think straight (AN: pun intended), but he had to know how John found out that he, Sherlock Holmes, had a military kink. "Rule number three. You're bottom tonight."

"Yes, sir", Sherlock answered. His whole body craved for John's treatment.

John immediately backed away from Sherlock and he went to the drawer. He looked for something for a second, then closed it and turned around, hiding something behind him. A military dog tag was hanging from his neck, moving slightly as John walked over to the bed and stood there. "On your knees", he commanded and Sherlock immediately got into the right position. He tensed as he heard a crack and felt the sting of a riding crop on his back, leaving his back burning. "I told you: no talking." Sherlock bit his lip, trying to be quiet. The erection inside his pants was driving him crazy already.

John put down the riding crop. "On your back." He sat between Sherlock's thighs and he tugged at his trousers. He took them off slowly, caressing Sherlock's pale legs with his finger, much to Sherlock's annoyance and want at the same time. He took his own off as well and kissed Sherlock slowly. The detective tried to respond, but his shoulders were pinned so hard to the mattress he couldn't move at all. John's mouth travelled down Sherlock's body, where he licked his jaw, neck, chest and abdomen, leaving a trail of saliva, before he got to Sherlock's hips. Sherlock moaned, breathing fast. His back was arching, mad after John's touch, and he didn't know what he wanted more, John fucking him or getting tortured a bit longer.

John pulled at Sherlock's boxers a bit. He saw some black curled hair sticking out and he pulled them. Sherlock shivered and bucked his hips up, which ended by being whipped again. "Behave, soldier, or I won't be nice anymore." doctor said in a strong military voice. He pulled the boxers off completely and looked at Sherlock's erect penis. He let out a breath and kissed the base of Sherlock's cock.

Sherlock inhaled sharply and dug his fingers into the sheets, trying to remain quiet although he needed John's touch so much right now. John made his way up, kissing Sherlock's length agonisingly slowly, then went down again and started licking. He swirled his tongue around Sherlock's member, enjoying the muffled sounds that escaped from Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock moaned loudly when John sucked the tip and licked off the pre-come. Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek, trying to fight the urge to talk or move, when he felt John move away and say "You're allowed to touch my hair, soldier." Sherlock's hand immediately reached to John's hair, burying his fingers in it. He wanted John's mouth around him, wanted the doctor to suck him. But he couldn't do anything and he knew exactly that John would play with him now, tease him. John most probably wouldn't relieve him so quickly from the tension that was building up inside him. He hissed when he felt John around his cock again, still not sucking him properly. He wanted to shout to John to give him what he wanted, but he was perfectly aware that it wouldn't work. He could only lay in silence while John worked his fantastic tongue around him, teasing the most sensitive places, licking, kissing, grazing, breathing, biting, pulling. Suddenly John took Sherlock's whole length in his mouth, fighting the impulse to gag. He bobbed his head up and down, hollowing his cheeks, trying to give Sherlock as much pleasure as possible. Sherlock was sweating and shaking beneath him, his knuckles going white from grasping the sheets as if his life depended on it.

Sherlock tried to suppress loud groans that wanted to escape his throat and pushed up his hips. He was close to come and yet he tried everything to hold it back because he was pretty sure that the moment he came he would feel the riding crop on his body. Which, after all, wouldn't be too tragic either. John felt Sherlock's muscles tense and shake underneath him. Sherlock was close to his climax. John withdrew and licked his lips seductively. "Not yet, soldier. You're not allowed to come yet". He kissed Sherlock and stuck his tongue out, so that Sherlock could taste himself. He pulled back again. "Close your eyes," said John, putting his fingers on Sherlock's eyelids. He moved away and took out a small bottle. "Open them. You need to look at me the whole time." That wasn't necessary though, Sherlock wouldn't keep his gaze away from John anyway. He watched as John squeezed a bit of the lubricant onto his fingers and cover them whole. He squeezed some more and with this finger he touched Sherlock's butthole, spreading the liquid evenly at the entrance. Sherlock threw his head back, letting out a quiet cry. "F....." He desperately tried not to say a word, still clutching the sheets on the bed. Automatically Sherlock spread his legs for John, letting him touch him. John chuckled. "Getting impatient? Don't worry. I won't torture you anymore." He placed a featherlight kiss on his lips, as if breaking a spell and said "You can talk now." Then he pushed one finger inside him.

"John!", Sherlock groaned immediately, pushing himself into John's hand. He wanted more of his love so badly. John pulled the finger in and out slowly, then fast, then slow again. At one moment he reached as far as he could and he smirked as he located Sherlock's prostate. Sherlock let out a long moan. "John, please...", he begged, his eyes shut. "P-please." John didn't respond, instead he pushed a second finger in, moving them in a scissoring motion. Sherlock shouted and lowered himself onto John's hand even more. Then John added the third finger. This was too much for Sherlock to take.

"Can't you just fuck me!" he screamed.

"I can. But I won't. I have to prepare you." Sherlock knew that, as well as the fact that the longer it would last, the more amazing it would get. "Please, John, don't make me wait anymo-o-o-re!" he screamed when John pushed his prostate not slightly at all, then removed all his fingers and Sherlock hissed in pain. John took the lube once more, squeezed a good amount of it on his fingers and coated himself. He positioned his erection at Sherlock's entrance and grabbed his hand. "I'm here, Sherlock. And I always will be there for you," he whispered and he entered Sherlock.

The detective screamed as John hit him from inside over and over again. "Harder", Sherlock whimpered, wrapping his legs around John's hips.

John bucked his hips repeatedly, trying to bury himself in Sherlock as deep as possible. All his senses were on fire, and Sherlock, Sherlock was so full, so warm and he felt so good around him. John lifted Sherlock’s legs and placed them on his shoulders and from the high pitched whimpers and low grunts that escaped Sherlock's mouth, it was a good decision.

"God, John", Sherlock groaned, shaking beneath John and going along with his movements as John pressed him into the sheets with every thrust. "John, I - I need to..."

"What, Sherlock?", John moaned as he quickened his pace a bit, working in short thrusts just at Sherlock's prostate.

Instead of an answer, Sherlock screamed, orgasming beneath John's body. His mind went completely blank, he couldn't think at all in that moment, John’s moans being the only thing he could hear.

John couldn't take it. The sight of Sherlock laying down underneath him, covered in sweat, breathing heavily with a look of pure ecstasy on his face was too much. He screamed Sherlock's name as he came inside him, not caring about anything other in this world, repeating one word in his mind: Sherlock. Sherlock. Sherlock. He rode him until he was completely spent, then he pulled out and laid next to Sherlock, facing him. He reached out with his hand to Sherlock's forehead and moved a loose curl from his eyes. He petted Sherlock's cheek with his thumb, adoring the most beautiful, most perfect, most human being in the entire universe.

"Maybe I should steal your clothes more often", Sherlock panted, smiling.

"Oh, I'd love that", said John, chuckling. "Although you don't have to do that for this. I'd be more than happy to have this more often." He smiled. "Sherlock, what will happen now? Are we... Boyfriends? Should we tell Mrs Hudson? And Greg? What about Mycroft?"

"I think Mrs Hudson will find out anyway", Sherlock chuckled. "Just as my spying brother."

Just at this very moment Sherlock's telephone buzzed. He reached out for it and read the message.

Tell John to hang the curtains next time. MLH

Well, I guess Mycroft found already out", Sherlock laughed.

"He... He saw all of that?" asked John, scared. Then he burst out laughing. "You know what, screw him. Let him watch and know he won't be having such a good time as us."

"Not as good, yes, but not no 'good time' at all." said Sherlock and he grimaced.

"Do you mean- oh." said John. He looked around and waved to the window, hoping Mycroft would see him. He walked over and closed the curtains, then went to the bed and got into the covers. He reached out his hand to Sherlock. "Come here, love."

"I think I should go and take a shower..." Sherlock said, looking at his skin covered in his own seed.  
"Nope, you're not going anywhere." said John and grabbed his head, forcing him to go to bed with him. He moved closer and soon a mop of ebony curls rested just under his head. "You're too tired for that now, Sherlock."

"Mm, yeah, I am" Sherlock mumbled lovingly, snuggling into John's chest.

"And to answer your previous question, yes, we're boyfriends. Although I'm planning to be much more than that." he smirked and hugged John tenderly. John smiled and ran a hand through his hair, massaging his scalp. "I'm glad to hear that, Sherlock."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

"With you, always," John said before they both drifted off to sleep, happy for their love for each other.


End file.
